When I first saw the stairs at No 19 I wasn’t so impressed. But these were the days when the arches in the hallway were still blocked up, the floor was concrete, and the walls were crumbling. Over the years I’ve come to love these stairs as much as any other. I run up and down them, I’ve slipped on them in the dark, I’ve carried furniture up them, and they also desperately need painting - another job to do this year! I like how they flow into the hall. I just love stairs! But this love affair goes way back.
I’m standing in a small back courtyard of a red brick and stone early Victorian house. The yard is surrounded by two story outbuildings totally enclosing it. The house is tall, mill-like in appearance with small, irregularly placed windows following the nature of the house’s interior rather than conforming to any notion of formality of design. I can see it’s a workman’s yard with heavy cobbles underfoot, an ancient stone or wood carving bench against one wall, and wild flowers grow through heavy parts of old machinery left rusting in the corners. I open the three plank wooden door and enter the empty hallway. It smells cold like a cellar and the walls are white crumbling plaster, the floor large slabs of limestone.
To my right is a doorway to a big kitchen, to my left is a flight of simple stone steps winding their way up through the house to the upper floors and beyond. I know this house so well and I love it. It's semi derelict and there’s so much to do here, but there’s also so much potential. I step to the left and holding the cast iron banister with my right hand I climb clockwise up the stairs. Like ones in a tower, the stairs wind upwards stopping every third turn for a small landing that goes both to the left, and right. The stairwell is light and breezy with a large glass skylight above showering the ancient stone and lime washed walls with bright summer sunlight.
Suddenly I see a small door I’d never noticed before. I don’t know how I could have missed it. I push it open to find a hallway with a back stairs leading both up and down. I look upwards to see three floors of wooden banisters winding their way up to an octagonal skylight in the ceiling, below the stairs descend into darkness. I walk down hearing the wood creak underfoot. The banister is beautifully smooth from the touch of 200 years of hands caressing it as people, long forgotten, walked up and down those stairs.
As I turn the corner I see that I’ve been brought back to the ground floor and directly into the kitchen. How did I not see this staircase? How did this amazing part of the house that I know so well, escape me for so long? The vastness of this building and it’s potential is suddenly overwhelming and with this comes the excitement of discovering something so unique, so beautiful… then I awake not really knowing whether this was a dream or reality.
I’ve dreamed about houses for as long as I can remember, and in those houses there are always stairs, and there are always areas I’ve somehow missed, overlooked, and then discover. Sometimes in dreams as the stairs go up they get smaller and smaller until I’m crawling through tiny holes, passages more suited to cats than humans.
Other times they take me to huge attics filled with strange things like fairground rides and circus decor all stacked and stored away waiting to be rediscovered. Sometimes the stairs lead to what seems like a whole other world where everything is familiar and at the same time new to me. I’m not sure what these dreams mean or even if dreaming about stairs is significant.
According to some online interpretations, dreaming about stairs can mean any number of things ranging from issues about your sense of hierarchy and progress in life, where you’re heading, whether you’re feeling lost, and even going down stairs could be a symbol of exploring your deeper subconscious. But as many of these articles point out, dreams are very personal and what we dream about is often only relevant to the dreamer. I often think about my sister who’s spent her life in a wheelchair. Stairs for her must symbolize an obstacle, an area of impossibility, maybe something she would like to enjoy, but never will… Her internal thoughts about stairs must be very different to mine.
I’m sure my dreams about stairs do mean something, but maybe I simply dream about stairs purely because I like them so much. I am a believer that our early experiences shape our lives and make us who we are today. Does that mean that stairs featured a lot in my early life?
When I was very young we lived in a house with a tall, long flight of stairs that ran from the first floor landing right down to the front door. They had a yellow carpet and I was often told not to play on them probably because I loved playing there. I’d put my toys on certain steps and watched as they rolled down. It was magic… Then I was bought a Slinky! This changed my life (I was only 5 and very easily impressed) For anyone who doesn’t remember, a Slinky was basically a large, long spring that, when places on the top step, would work its way down the stairs ALONE! It was amazing and I spent hours playing with it. I do also remember falling down those stairs right from the top. I kind of rolled down sideways building up speed as I went. By the time I reached the bottom I was a little dazed and expecting to cry, but I remember thinking that it hadn’t been such a bad experience and I continued playing.
I first time I went to Fountains Abbey in north Yorkshire was when I was about 9 and I fell in love. One of the largest and best preserved ruined Cistercian monasteries in England, this enormous abbey operated for 407 years until it became one of the victims of Henry VIII in 1539. For a 9 year old me, it was a wonderland of stone arches, relics of an age far removed from my modern life, doorways leading to underground rooms, and towers still containing stairs. I remember climbing ancient stone spiral staircases once leading to rooms on upper levels, maybe continuing to the roof or fortifications, but now abruptly ending at a rail one floor up in a thick stone wall, cold and exposed. There was a sense of mystery and excitement about the idea that this sequence of stone slabs, one 6inches higher than another, could lead to something more beautiful, more interesting… something more…and when there was no longer anything there, it led me to a whole world inside my head of rooms and corridors that were part of an age now long forgotten.
This sense of mystery was further fueled by the stories I loved as a child. There was a television series I used to watch called “The Enchanted Castle” From what I remember this was set in a Georgian mansion and at night, the clock would chime 13 and all the statues in the garden came to life. There were secret passages and hidden rooms and, like many children, I loved the idea of a staircase or corridor hidden behind wooden paneling. Books like The Famous Five, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, among others further fed my desire for this kind of mystery and even at a young age I was having dreams set in old houses with creaky floors and back stairways that led to rooms unseen. It sounds scary when I write it down now, but it wasn’t… the feeling was more one of wonder.
By the time I’d become a teenager I was fascinated by houses, house plans and stairs, and I also loved attics. I spent a few summers in Dorset in the south of England with a friend of mine who lived in a very old and beautiful manor house. This had a grand main staircase that led directly to the first floor, but then had a tiny back staircase leading from the kitchen to all the floors in the house including the attic. It was fascinating.
Her family also had a large house called Gaunts House where we used to play hide and seek with other friends staying. These games lasted far too long as there were far too many places to hide. But it was great fun! This house had countless staircases including the tower staircase that was accessible only on the ground and second floor, skipping the first floor totally. It continued straight up to the top of the tower where there was a viewing “terrace” surrounded by battlements. Somewhere between the second floor and the top of the tower there was a hidden panel which concealed a tiny staircase winding its way around the inside of the tower and leading through a doorway opening out onto the endless maze of rooftops covering the house. There my friend and I would climb the rooftops and sit between the wide chimney stacks and never get found. For me at the age of 14, this was like a storybook dream come true.
In later years after I’d moved to Italy, on visits to England my mother and I would plan day trips to historic houses of interest. These were often centuries old, rich in architectural detail, and drenched in history and atmosphere. The parts of these buildings that excited me the most were always the stairs.
Some houses like Haddon Hall and Hardwick Hall have huge stone stairs solid and imposing. Other houses have beautifully carved wooden stairs like Benthall Hall which possibly contains my favorite staircase.
I’ve learnt to hold in my excitement of stairs over the years, but it’s still there as are the dreams. Sometimes I remember what the dreams are, and other times they escape me by morning. I recently spent a few days in Prague with some Italian friends and we ended up visiting the the klementinum library. It was a stunning place and truly worth visiting if you’re ever in Prague, but the tour took us all up flights of staircases. First stone steps through the entrance hall, then a few flights up a metal spiral staircase. After this we went into the main tower where there were ancient wooden carved flights of stairs going up in all directions, one after another until we reached the viewing balcony that surrounded the top of the huge tower.
As I looked up, there was a ladder hanging to one side, and, I couldn’t have been more excited when I saw it… starting from a beam close to the top of the ceiling itself, grew a flight of stairs that entered a doorway under the dome and off up into the unknown…
Stairs take us somewhere. They not only go from place to place, but they also take us up and down to other levels and heights. They provide us with endless possibilities, and when I’m curled up in bed at night with Fluffy Frappis, stairs take me back in time deep into my memories, forward to my hopes and desires, to situations, places, and worlds I can only dream of 💜
💙All pictures are my own apart from the picture of Gaunts House which is from the internet.
💙 Attached is a link to my Pinterest “Stairs” board: https://pin.it/2XedlqK
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